Eurue- The Forgotten World

by Elaina J Davidson

  Oh, indeed.

  The Fortress

  THE TORRENTIAL rain did not abate. By nightfall even the flames felt damp.

  “Hell, Torrullin’s elemental home was more comfortable than this,” Teighlar grumbled. “And I’ll have you know I slept with puddles forming next to my bed there.”

  Tristan grinned, having spent time in that dwelling also. “Tell me, Emperor, the Luvan stones …”

  The Senlu jerked around to look at him, nearly falling into the fire.

  “Oh, you have been holding back, haven’t you?” Tristan murmured from a nearby armchair.

  Sucking at his teeth, Teighlar rose from his crouch and took a seat next to Tristan. Savier and Alusin were in conversation while picking up books and other fallen objects, and Vian had fallen asleep on the musty couch pushed against the far wall. Belun was nowhere in sight, and Gabryl paced the icy entrance hall, muttering to himself.

  “It is more a sense of knowing, not actual information,” the Emperor said.

  “And you share nothing?”

  “You have not exactly darkened my doorstep in recent years, have you?” Teighlar retorted.

  Tristan grimaced. “True.”

  Elbows on knees, Teighlar leaned forward to stare into the flames. “Avaelyn’s population has doubled and produce keeps pace with those demands. I cannot explain how I know, but everyone is healthy, although there have been a few grumbles about being severed from the rest of us. Nothing seditionist, but there. The sacred sites are glorious and the Lifesource Cathedral particularly sees many visitors.”

  “What about specifics?”

  Teighlar smiled. “That does not happen often, but I once heard Quilla arguing with Elianas about maps. Sabian apparently frequently discusses that damn book he got from Shep Lore with Torrullin.” He turned his head sideways. “Of Teroux I see and hear little, except once when I saw him on a ship with huge billowing sails. That was some while back, but he was happy. I never felt that kind of contentedness from your contrary cousin in this realm.”

  Tristan smiled. “I miss him.”

  “We miss all of them, I suspect, but knowing they are doing well eases it.”

  “And sensing them helps too, right?”

  Teighlar laughed. “I admit, I was furious when that man left me alone, sole bloody Ancient, and then, around a year after they vanished, I heard whispers.” He chuckled as he leaned back and crossed his ankles. “For a while I thought I was finally going senile and then Dechend reminded of the stones. I made peace with it then, and listened whenever the whispers started.”

  “How often?”

  “Infrequent. Random.”

  “When was the last time you heard anything?”

  Teighlar eyed his companion. “That will not help you.”

  Snorting, Tristan glared at him. “So it’s pertinent. Tell me.”

  Teighlar again studied the flames. “Torrullin began undoing the wards and Elianas flew into him. I suspect this was when you made a sudden and unheralded appearance in the garden.”

  Hissing out a breath, Tristan simply stared at the Emperor.

  “Yes, Avaelyn almost reappeared in our spaces.”

  Exhaling forcefully, Tristan swung his gaze to the fire. “It would have changed everything.”

  “Without a doubt.” Teighlar sounded wistful.

  Closing his eyes, Tristan nodded.

  “Lucky for us, we will still be around when they do return.”

  Opening his eyes, Tristan smiled. “Indeed.”

  GABRYL, PACING GROOVES in the ancient stone floor, had tense fingers wrapped around the Aleru Orb. He was in quandary.

  On the one hand, this was his twin. Cathian had ensured his survival, despite the terrible constraints placed upon them. She swore to see him free, and in the end that was exactly what she did achieve. He would not be pacing this space, with allies nearby, had it not been for her planning.

  On the other hand, it was never part of the plan to kill so many.

  Yes, he too suffered the burden of revenge and most of the time his cold anger had not been a show. He had been angry - enraged, truth be told. How easy it had been for others while he stewed in a casket neither alive nor dead. Men and women of all races and cultures lived and he had only his thoughts as company. Often times he wished to smite all life from the realm, because it was his due.

  Yet, on every excursion into the outer world, he was confronted with altering perceptions. A man huddled in a doorway shared what little food he had. A child crying in a lonely park wound arms of gratefulness around his neck when he offered to help. A woman took him in when he had nowhere to go. And many more. He discovered, even in adversity, there was love.

  Life was precious and life was now finally before him again.

  Rage, revenge and dark thoughts utterly denied that.

  Cathian was wrong. She lived through the ages and, while many of those centuries were a trial, she knew love, appreciation, caring, the feel of a benign sun on her pale cheeks. Life was not perfect, but it was precious.

  His decision made, Gabryl ceased pacing.

  He swung on his heels to stare into the ramshackle library cum sitting room, and his gaze settled on Tristan Valla. The Valleur’s fair hair blazed gold in the firelight, untidy, too long to hang loose and too short to decently tie back, but a beacon to those seeking light. A good man, as he heard this day.

  Gabryl strode in, rounded the two armchairs - one filled by his father - and hunkered before Tristan.

  “I want you to have this.” He held the Aleru Orb out.

  Tristan shifted forward in his seat. “Why?”

  “This tells you where the absorbed from Petunya are and it summons them back to their homes. Take it. If something happens to me, at least the guilt of their abandonment will not aid in my downfall.”

  Grunting, Teighlar moved to the edge of his chair also. “That is fatalistic talk, Gabryl.”

  He met his father’s gaze. “She is my sister. She knew life, she knew love. She should know better. I will do whatever I have to, but that does not include allowing her to insult this realm with the darkness now resident inside her.” He shifted his attention back to Tristan. “The Orb can track her also, although not geographically - her mind-set. If I fail, you are my failsafe. Please take it.”

  Licking his lips, Tristan reached out and clasped the device, capturing Gabryl’s hands beneath his. Reaching in, he allowed the Song to spring forth and wove harmonies around the connection.

  Gabryl’s eyes widened, but he did not deny it.

  Tristan released the connection and took the Orb, placing it on his lap. As he released it, it absorbed into the aura of his signature and vanished.

  “I do not deserve what you just gifted me,” Gabryl murmured. “Why do so?”

  His expression wry, Tristan said, “Because I already know what you are going to do.”

  Not only a good man, but an insightful one, Gabryl mused. Rising, he whistled, and swiftly had the attention. “I will go to Cathian alone. I will either exit that turret again or neither of us will.” Raising his hands to still arguments, he went on. “I know her as I know myself, including the terror she lives with. This is my task; this is how I gift light to those who should forever bask in it.”

  “Son?”

  He looked down upon his father. “We will not spend the rest of our immortality looking over our shoulders.”

  “We can help her.”

  Gabryl shook his head. “We cannot.”

  Vian snarled and strode nearer. “No! I am going with you.”

  “I do not know you, Vian of the Wulvyn, but I believe my sister was fortunate to have you in her life. She tramples all that is wonderful when she crushes the love she shared with you. You are free of this burden as of now. You will stay here.”

  “Make me.” The Wulvyn braced in challenge.

  Gabryl lifted a hand, palm up, fingers splayed, and jabbed at the air in a forceful martial arts movement. Vian slumped se
nseless.

  “Nothing sinister,” he murmured. “I simply used his own exhaustion against him. He will sleep for two days.”

  “Son, please,” Teighlar whispered, on his feet also.

  Gabryl turned and embraced his father. “Knowing you again makes everything worth it. I love you.”

  Before Teighlar - or Alexander - could respond, Gabryl dematerialised.

  IN THE ENSUING silence, Belun asked, “How did he transport?”

  “He does not travel as we do,” Tristan said, and gripped Teighlar by the shoulders. “He will survive it.”

  “You cannot know that,” the bereft father growled.

  Savier and Alusin lifted the unconscious Vian to the couch, and then straightened to stare at each other.

  “Damn it, Emperor, your son has placed all his trust in us. The least we can do is trust in him,” Tristan said. “He has waited an incredibly long time and, despite initial appearances, he walks in the light. You gifted him that when you became his father. Believe in him.”

  Making a sound in his throat, Teighlar muttered, “I hate it when you are right. Fine. Now tell me about that orb thing and what did you do just now?”

  He sought immediate distraction, Tristan realised. Retaking his seat, he said, “You know about the Aleru Orb given to the Kemir to end the daetal?”

  “Trap them, you mean.”

  “Yes, but at the time they did not know different.”

  “Funny how the Valleur interfered even here.”

  Tristan eyed him, well aware the Emperor’s frustration caused him to come across as contrary. “The Valleur were trying to help.” He laughed when Teighlar gave him the stink eye. “I wasn’t around then!”

  Alusin closed in to prod at the fire. “Gabryl and Cathian both landed up with an Orb. How that happened, we don’t actually know. We only became aware of it recently. I had heard there were two orbs and thought them in Gabryl’s casket. Only one came to Eurue, however, and then there were three. The lesser copies would never have survived the time between then and now.”

  “Personally I think it has to do with imagination,” Tristan said. “The twins were imagined, after all, and therefore had within them the ability to imagine true replicas. Who knows? What we do now know is that they kept the devices with them in order to stay in touch in whichever form they assumed.”

  “It appears and disappears,” Teighlar frowned, “as if it is intangible.”

  “Imagination, not so?”

  The Emperor glared at him. “Clever.”

  “What did you do for Gabryl earlier?” Alusin questioned.

  Tristan shrugged. “I simply wove the All into one strand of power. He won’t need to sift for an answer; it will be there for him when he needs it.”

  The Kiln

  AS DUST THE mountains were.

  It hurt to see. How many died in this annihilation, both of the animal kingdom and of a sentient nature?

  Gabryl balanced on shifting scree at the edge of the giant circle of pulverised rock and stared across and up at the gigantic dome quivering upon the unsteady territory that was the Kiln before. Five impossible towers guarded the edifice.

  The time had come to rejoin his sister.

  Chapter 50

  Hear the birds twitter, my friends, and be also renewed

  ~ Arun, Druid ~

  Eurue

  The Fortress

  MUCH LATER THAT night, with rain still sheeting down, Tristan stood before the window in his bedchamber. It was unutterable cold, but his tunic was undone to bare his chest. He needed unfettered access to the Maghdim Medaillon.

  Given all that was happening around him, his focus should be on solutions and long-term alliances to prevent this coming to pass again, and yet calamity and clarifications of that nature was far from his thoughts.

  A Timekeeper ruled in singular.

  It did not sit well with him.

  Finally he understood the true reason for Torrullin and Elianas bowing out. Neither wished to rule in singular; they were a team and refused to sever that connection.

  He refused to sever his connection to Alusin.

  He did not wish to be Timekeeper. Not alone.

  Clasping the Medaillon, he stared into the roiling darkness. Rain thudded against the window, a constant roar of sound. It too was music, and he used it to delve into other notes, near and far. His spirit roamed into the silent spaces and delved into cacophony. Glorious melodies surrounded him, as did discordant pings. All was one. One was all.

  He did not hear or even sense Alusin enter, the Kemir having knocked rousingly for attention, but he felt warm fingers enshroud his icy digits upon the golden device … and jerked back into the present.

  “Peace; it’s me,” Alusin murmured.

  “I do not desire this responsibility,” Tristan whispered, without moving.

  Breath left the Kemir in a lengthy and foggy manner, as if he exhaled all tension along with it. “Then it is time to change the rules.”

  “How? I have Ixion’s knowledge within me. I have met his and interacted with his Eternal Companion, Adagin. I have seen Neolone in another realm, and Tarlinn had a few succinct wisdoms to share also. I have the Song. I hold in my hand the entire history of the Valleur, so-called Masters of the Universe. This is the Master Mechanism. Because the Valleur were first, they began the count. Everything I am and hold points to who I am in the grander scheme. How do we change these rules?”

  “Tristan, you are not alone in this.”

  “But that’s just it. You are my witness now as I will be yours in the fullness of time. In this moment we walk together, but tomorrow? I do not desire that kind of separation.”

  Shifting to stand between him and the window, Alusin’s expression was in darkness. “Break it.”

  He understood what Alusin meant when the man’s fingers tightened over the clasp upon his chest. “Break the Medaillon?”

  “Not as in shatter, but as in two parts,” Alusin said.

  “Share it,” he understood. “How?”

  Alusin moved in close and placed his lips in Tristan’s neck.

  Oh.

  Chuckling under his breath, Alusin retreated. “Not tonight, I am aware. We are not yet even at first base.” He carefully removed his hand from the one clutching at the Medaillon, and then tapped upon Tristan’s chest. “We can do it together.”

  Swallowing dryly, he stared into the darkness that was the man’s face. “Ixion and Adagin were one and yet they were separated.”

  “They did not have this.” Again Alusin tapped, this time indicating the Maghdim.

  Silence swerved into the low thunder of water upon ancient lead crystal, a harmony that was also an answer. No note was discordant. All was one. One was all.

  Morning

  WEAK RAYS PIERCED the gloom, growing ever brighter.

  The storm was over.

  The manipulation had settled into terra firma and thus the currents were appeased.

  It was time for the endgame.

  In the kitchen, five men held warm mugs in cold fingers. Steam wafted up and breath fogged the air. Vian still slept.

  “Commander Krestin is at the palace,” Belun informed. “The majority apparently transported out before the sealing. Valleur, Kemir and Grunway. He is rounding up stragglers now and taking them to a safe place.” He glanced at Savier. “The palace suffered much damage.”

  The Keeper rose, shoving his mug from him. “I am returning to Kemirin to lend what aid I am able to. Sitting and waiting for a result will … I have to do something.” Giving Alusin a look, Savier dematerialised.

  “Belun, go with him,” Tristan murmured.

  About to remonstrate, the Centuar shook his head and wordlessly vanished. His wafting mug spun on the table.

  Teighlar pressed his forearms into the table as he leaned on them to peer at Alusin and Tristan. “I know you, Tris. What is going on? Something is different this morning, for both of you, and I refer not to a pleasant twist in th
e sheets.”

  Glittering grey eyes speared the Senlu.

  Slapping a hand on the unpolished wood, Teighlar chortled. “I knew it! That is a look Torrullin gifted me many times. What are you planning?”

  Reluctantly, Tristan smiled. “It’s personal.”

  Teighlar leaned back, his eyes narrowing. “So it is about a potential twist in the sheets.”

  Alusin rolled his eyes and shoved his chair back. “I’m going to check on Vian.” Muttering, he strode out.

  “Tell me, Emperor, if you had to do it over again, would you change anything?”

  Licking his lips, Teighlar frowned. “That is a fruitless exercise, my friend. We cannot change it and to air the moments and ages we regret will only add to the nightmares.”

  “A simple yes or now.”

  Long silent moments ticked by on the invisible clock.

  “Yes,” Teighlar murmured.

  Tristan nodded. “Were I to ask …”

  “Torrullin would say the same. What are you after?”

  “No, it’s about what I regret,” Tristan murmured.

  “Alusin?”

  Grey eyes silvered. “No. This.” He placed a hand on his chest.

  “The Maghdim? Ah. Timekeeper. When you accepted the Medaillon, you also accepted that particular duty. At the time you sought purpose. Caballa had died and Torrullin was gone. With hindsight …”

  “… I wish he had taken the damn thing with him, yes.” Pushing his half consumed brew to the side, Tristan said, “He left it for me to find, but at the same time he told me to love with all my heart. Do you think he meant I am allowed to change the rules?”

  “When did he tell you to love with all your heart?”

  “A note with the Medaillon.”

  Teighlar smiled. “Then of course he meant for you to change the rules. Allowed has nothing to do with it. Gods, Tris, that man never followed the rules.”

  His eyes reverting to their usual grey, Tristan grinned. “True.”

  Teighlar studied him a few moments more and then clambered to his feet. “Shall we make breakfast before we venture out on our next adventure?” He gazed around him. “I have no idea what to do, though. Kitchens and I have never really become friends.”